


Echo From The Past

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Armstrong and Miller RPF, British Comedy RPF
Genre: Casting Couch, Established Relationship, Innuendo, M/M, Moving Wallpaper/Echo Beach AU, Roleplay, Rubbing in Lotion, Stripping, Teasing, Touching, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 18:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18349661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Ben's taking a break in his trailer from filming Moving Wallpaper/Echo Beach and trying to get away from being unlikeable producer Jonathan Pope... But when an old friend and lover comes to audition for the starring role, he's more than happy keep the persona up for a little while longer - just what lengths would Xander go to in getting that part?This was a bit of fun, roleplay/AU kind of story I wrote absolutely years ago. Unfortunately, I doubt anyone will remember Echo Beach now - in fact, I'm not sure anyone even watched it at the time!





	Echo From The Past

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic. Posted in 2008 to Livejournal.
> 
> *~*~*~*
> 
> Please note that this is a work of fiction involving real people written by myself - it is a completely made-up fantasy and is in no way intended to cause offence.

 

The colossal viewing figures were in, the actors in position, the cameras loaded - and, if that's ITV HQ on the phone, you can tell them that we're ready to roll. Smash soap Echo Beach was the network's brand-new baby, and hotshot producer Jonathan Pope had been left holding it; he'd fed it, burped it, and now he was set to milk the sucker for all it was worth. Another twelve shows? That _would_ be child's play. Bring it on!

Except, he _wasn't_ really - he was simply trying to get into _character_ . He was comedian, Ben Miller - star of sister programme, Moving Wallpaper - who probably wasn't getting paid as much, _laid_ as much, or anywhere near the same amount of respect as the fictional Jonathan Pope. At least they'd had the decency to give him a nice view of the beautiful Cornish beaches and, my _word_ were there some _beauties_ on show today. He made a grab for the heavy-duty binoculars on the sideboard and walked towards the window, hoping to chill for five or ten minutes as they waited to start filming. A chance to sample some of the wildlife on show - a spot of _bird-watching_ of the other kind. Everyone enjoyed learning about _those_ birds and bees at school, even if he had been _stung_ on the odd occasion by the latter during the learning process. Spotting bikini-clad babes, parasols and seagulls, he panned along the strip of sand to find quite an unusual sight.

Zooming into the marina, he still couldn't work out if what he saw was _real_ though. Out of the calm, insipid ocean - as boring as the filming day was long - came a handsome figure, a familiar face. "It can't be," Ben uttered to himself, holding the lenses up to his face. "It is," he cried, upon realisation, "Xander, over here!"

Alexander waved back at him in such a casual way - however, there was nothing _normal_ about him being here at all. Ben's old comedy partner (and, indeed, old _flame_ ) was the _last_ person he expected to turn up in his _new_ show. Not that he was complaining. He'd missed him, terribly. Ben tried so hard not to _stare_ too, but it was practically impossible. Wearing so very little, Armstrong was a vision. And out here at the seaside, with real _sea_ , you couldn't put it down to a _mirage_.

He continued to plod up the beach like a Baywatch hunk in trunks, the sand squidging between his toes, lightly dusting over his feet as he passed a few of the cast and some of the lighting crew. Perhaps you wouldn't have thought you'd need a lighting crew outside, in the middle of the day, but there couldn't be clear skies in Cornwall _all_ of the time - where did you think they _were? Tenerife?_ The western English coast was bleak and cold, and _nothing_ like what they had to portray on screen. But here was someone who would inject a little sunshine into _everybody's_ afternoon. Xander's speedos were fire engine red, and there was more than just a siren going off in _Ben's_ pants. Any bigger of an emergency and he would be needing a paramedic.

Sticking a surfboard into the ground meekly, Alexander looked the typical Cambridge graduate who had no idea what to do with it - watching it, momentarily, with embarrassment, as it then toppled over onto an expensive camera and dolly stand - before donning his sandals to tread the wooden steps ahead of him. It was only a shame his entrance into the cabin couldn't be as glorious as his beautiful, bouncy, bulging... _Ahem_. "I'm here for the role!" he shouted with gusto as he sprang through the door.

"What- _ever_ do you mean?" the greeted couldn't have _been_ more confused.

"Stay in character - it's a roleplay," Armstrong whispered, "You aren't supposed to know me here, _remember_ \- you're Jonathan Pope."

Ah _comprende_ \- Ben winked back at him in understanding. "Right well, you know the drill," he quickly changed his tone of voice in order to play the game, "My name is Jonathan Pope and I am the producer of Echo Beach." He was today, _anyway_ \- he had a badge saying so and everything. That was good enough for him. "Name?" he asked.

"Alexander Armstrong," the man stood proud. Their acting was _good_. Nobody would have guessed they'd known each other for years.

'Age?' shortly followed.

Why did he need to ask _that?_ "That's a bit _personal_ , isn't it? I'm younger than Jason Donovan and that's all I'm going to tell you." He crossed his arms over his bare chest in reluctance, and, at the same time, tried not to spoil the game they had started.

"Age," Ben insisted.

Resisting the urge to shave off a decade, Xander relented with a, "Thirty-seven." Wrinkles may have given him away, but he knew he still looked pretty _alright_.

"And occupation?" Miller finally added.

"Anything you want me to be - I've been everything from a vet to a philandering vicar - and I can _certainly_ be your surfer boy," the auditionee assured him.

From what Ben had seen, Alexander's take on the sport of surfing was dreadful. But, as this was the _casting couch_ , Ben rather hoped his friend would waxing something _else_ entirely, and he didn't mean a bloody surfboard - if you know what I mean. "I gather you've come for the role of Daniel Marrack," the 'high-flying TV exec' turned to his desk to search through his character notes and scripts, but couldn't find anything of any relevance for reference. They were fakes: a top-sheet full of writing, followed by a wedge of blanks. He was going to have to _improvise_ . "You'll have to _impress_ me - we already have someone to play him, and we've aired the pilot." Taking a bottle of baby-oil-like sun lotion off the shelf, he threw it Armstrong's way.

Alexander began by spreading it over his front, as if he was genuinely applying suncream; he didn't work it in like somebody who was _trying_ to be sexy, the irony of that being that he already _was_ \- to Ben. The sweet coconut butter smoothed away all that beach grit. Greasing his body numerous times, his hands dipped below the waistband of his swimwear, covering every inch. A thought which had Miller practically salivating.

"That's good, that's good," he was told.

"I know what you think of me as," Xander tried to wipe the rest of it off, "But I'm not _easy_ like one of your extras." He rid his hands of it by using the other man's suit as a towel, slowly sliding his hands around his back, encompassing him. As he pressed his slippery body up against his, the warm wetness could be felt by both men, seeping right through the many layers of different fabric, from lycra to polyester.

"I agree," Ben grinned like a shark, "You're not easy - you're far _harder_ than any of them." He proved just that by grabbing the erection which had been waiting through the whole interview to burst out of those tight shorts. Producing a long overdue moan from his partner, he helped him wriggle free from his clothing and marvelled as he kicked the undergarments across the room. He'd seen Armstrong naked many, many times before, but nothing turned him on more than having him now, alone in this trailer.

"I've been dying to get out of them since I got here," he said, with a smile, "I feel they _restrict_ me as an actor."

 

***

When the trailer's rocking, don't come knocking. And so it should have come as no great ask of Jason Donovan not to interrupt them. But when he returned to _Jonathan's Pope's_ office, he had quite the _shock_ \- for Xander and Ben were hard at it on the casting couch. If there's one way of getting ahead in the acting world, it's by flaunting a bit of flesh or shagging your way to the top. Xander had the job; consider Jason's contract annulled. "You," Ben turned himself towards the door, gasping, grasping onto the sofa's edge, "I wanted to tell you... This is my friend - Alexander... He'll be _replacing_ you from Monday."

 


End file.
